GIDEON ST. JAMES.

gideon st. james. 44. foreign secretary. husband to matilda moss st.james. father to marceline.

[matildamvss]

@gideonstjames​

Matilda knew her husband had arrived when the scent of desperation surging through the party mingled with that of cognac and potent—nearly offensive—cologne. They’d agreed to arrive separately, their purposes diametrically opposed: hers to go undetected, a tacit and yet powerful force beneath the current, and his to remain, at all costs, seen and heard. Gaudy. A hand wafts across Gideon’s lower spine to alert him of her presence, a crooked smile finding the shell of his ear, lips leaving a stain in chaste greeting. Her olive eyes lower to the drink in his hand, clinking with ice cubes. 

“I assume I’m driving?”

[gideonstjames]

If it was up to Gideon, he would’ve stayed at home with Matilda and Marceline, maybe invited his parents. It may not have been perfect. They may have hardly exchanged any words or said a little too much, but it would’ve been better than this. He recognises her touch first, but he’s already filled with frustration. He only turns to face her due to the audience, forcing a smile on his lips and kissing her cheek out of habit. “Oh, so we can leave together. What a relief.” There’s a sudden need for a strong drink, and so Gideon finishes off the contents of his glass. “I can take a separate car. I don’t intend to stay for much longer, anyway.”

[love]

“This photograph is my proof. There was that afternoon, when things were still good between us, and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen. She did love me. Look for yourself.” This is my proof, Duane Michals, 1974

[gideonstjames]

princessrcyal‌:

“I figured you weren’t enjoying the party,” Victoria tells him, a certain satisfaction that comes with guessing right. “I caught you from across the ballroom once or twice. You looked awfully miserable — but perhaps that’s just your face.” Her lips bear the slightest of smiles, just enough that her words cross the line between damning and teasing. 

She studies him for a moment, the champagne in her hand forgotten as she thinks. Then—

“Have you ever toured the palace, Mr. St James?” It’s not a question as much as it is an invitation. “I’ve been told I am a marvelous guide.” 

“Do forgive me, I’m terrible at hiding my feelings.” Gideon mirrors her tone but his smile is wider than hers, one he fails to hide. 

But then comes the invitation, and Gideon’s jaw tenses. 

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. 

You’re a good husband. You’re a good man. Don’t do it.

At a desperate attempt to remind himself of his morality, he looks around the room to look for Matilda. He barely catches a glimpse of her, which he believes to be enough, and turns back to Victoria. The words ‘my wife’ sits at the tip of his tongue, but Victoria comes with a glow that’s almost holy and his entire being’s set alight. Instead, he’s reminded of the last time they were together, and whatever conscience he thinks he has is long forgotten. 

“Well, then I better see for myself.” He settles his gaze on hers with a look that makes it hard to believe he ever had any doubts. “I hear the view is quite spectacular.” 

[gideonstjames]

duchess-ofclarence‌:

Time inched forward, achingly slow, leading up to the event. To the very moment, when the grandfather clock’s hand settled at the hour, and Elle’s feet were planted in the reception hall, heels digging into her specified grooves. Perched - a bride, a wife-  very nearly mastering how to adjust her concrete haughty smirk to reveal a relaxed show smile, while simultaneously moulding into the lion’s den. Not quite Caroline’s smooth transition. 

Her resolution was to speed up, move past this year, and the flustered chaos that hovered. An energy was thick, heavy on the Firm, hands pulling back the hours and minutes to the New Year. She could see it there, the weight of it: the past, and the tragedies the whole nation mourned. Speculated. Judged. More champagne was necessary, determined to coax the next year forward paired with some discreet, bottled mischief. Rallying to excuse herself from the latest conversation, the duchess ensured her champagne flute was full, calculating the steadiest route to the courtyard. Just as she turned, her champagne met the air, dancing before gravity willed it to splatter before her, and near the figure beside her, crystal shattering and parting like confetti. 

Fuck’s sake!  Panic.‘I’m so sorry - the champagne must’ve had a mind of its own-’ Words came out quick, pure nerves, ‘Did it land on you, at all?’

One second, Gideon debated going home alone for the host may be the Queen, but tonight, he solely sees her as his wife’s boss and thus a bitter resentment continued to boil within him, ruining the entire night. The next, he’s slapped in the face with champagne with most of it washing over his shirt. 

“Oh, for goodness sake...” Gideon snaps, wiping his face with his handkerchief and brushing off his shirt. “No, I poured this on myself.” Then, he takes the moment to recognise that it’s just Elle, it was a mistake, and there’s a crowd, which forces his anger to simmer down. Surely this meant he could finally go home. 

“Careful of the glass, Elle,” he sighed and guided her away from the mess. “Are you hurt?”

[gideonstjames]

“As wonderful as tonight is, I do hope we never do this again.”

[gideonstjames]

emiller‌:

⇝ @gideonstjames​​ ⇝ 𝖆 𝖋𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊

It was reaching the point of the night in which Em was ready to slip away. She had lost Richard to some social climbing chatter, a desire that they didn’t share. A few flutes of champagne deep and finished her exploring, she has ended up on the balcony cigarette between her teeth. It was cold but she didn’t mind, sometimes the hum of a party reminded her too closely of the voices in her head. She turns every which direction in an attempt to shield herself from the wind that keeps putting out her light. Right when it seems to light, she looks to see the other in front of her. She smiles warmly at Gideon before pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. “What a coincidence— if you’re here for the secret of a perfect serve I won’t tell you,”

Gideon might have managed to hide his distaste for the night, but he did not deign to give any more time than necessary to this particular crowd. A crowd that appeared particularly more foul at their ability to camouflage his wife; a stone amongst pebbles. At this rate, he’ll be kissing his own hand at midnight. And, to distract himself from this thought, he steps outside for some fresh air only to be pleasantly surprised by Emma. One of the very few gems in the place. 

“No?” Gideon’s entirely charmed, as he always is with Emma as he approaches her to lean against the balcony. “That certainly is a shame. To know such an impressive secret, you must have had quite the instructor...”

[gideonstjames]

mcrchioness‌:

         THERE  WERE  A  MILLION  AND  ONE  WAYS  that  isadora  would  have  preferred  to  ring  in  the  new  year ;  invitation  upon  invitation  had  been  bestowed  upon the  marchioness  since  august  and  yet  here  she  was,  at  the  only  one  she  had  not  looked  forward  to  attending.  a  glass  of  champers  perched  at  her  lips,  she  attempted,  with  meticulous  execution,  to  appear  interested  in  lord  scales  newly  sculptured  gardens  at  his  bahamas  residence.  clocking  a  familiar  figure  across  the  ballroom,  isadora  quickly  made  her  excuses  and  parted  from  the  tedious  conversation.   ❛   thank  goodness  you’re  here,  i  was  starting  to  feel  my  ears  bleed  !!  if  i  have  to  listen  about  that  mans  bloody  mangrove  trees  one  more  time  i’d  have  half  a  mind  to  impale  him  on  one.  ❜  she  grumbled,  yet  her  irritation  was  quick  to  dissipate  in  present  company  and  a  smile  curled  upon  her  crimson  lips.  ❛  anyway …  you  look  ravishing  tonight.  ❜

Most of Gideon’s mind was taken up by guilt from leaving his daughter home alone, and frustration from spending the night separately from his wife. It hardly paints the picture perfect image of a family he’d grown up with, and it’s one of those nights where he wonders whether Matilda’s brain is worth it all. 

When Gideon thought the night couldn’t possibly be salvaged, Isadora appears in front of him with a smile that melts his own irritation and welcomes her with a smile of his own. 

“Darling, I look like every other well-dressed man in the room. Aside from Scaley over there. Do excuse him, he’s a Harrovian,” Gideon lets out a small chuckle and steps to the side to take a better look at her. “You, on the other hand...” He gestures to her full length, eyes full of awe, and when they meet hers the secrets they share are threatening to spill from just one look. “Leave me rather speechless.”

[gideonstjames]

zachenright‌:

          “D’you know what, I might just steal one of these,” he joked, features deadpan as he picked up the empty ashtray to survey it. Intricate floral designs adorned the edge. Made of expensive silver, without a doubt. He flicked his own cigarette into it. The air inside was stuffy, hot and smelling of perfume and alcohol; though he was not one to turn down an invitation like this, the sheer number of people he’d been introduced to was a bit overwhelming.

          Zachary wasn’t here on work duty, of course. Everything was very much off-the-record during the event. Still, there were hands to shake and new faces to greet as the newly appointed Editor-in-Chief; a year had passed since his promotion, yet he was still considered new to the ropes. Did the subtle condescending attitude of the more senior members of the press stem from just precisely that —- their seniority? Or them being white while he was a man of color? (A combination of both, Zach suspected.) When he realized his cheeks were practically sore from all the smiling he was doing, he decided it was time for some fresh air and quiet. And a smoke. He was not alone in this, it seemed. 

The extent of Gideon’s contempt towards the evening is most definitely extended towards the guest list, namely Zach En-whatever his name was. Had Gideon known he’d be met with the man, he would’ve stayed inside and engaged in another empty conversation. Unfortunately, his hubris had carried him outside to relish in his own strength to put a dirty addiction to rest, and continue to defeat it whilst the smoke was blown around him. Instead, he’s faced with the new editor-in-chief of the Guardian, and the last thing he’s in the mood for is a joke. 

“They won’t notice,” Gideon replied, off-hand. “It’s just silver.” And then, regretfully, he feels obliged to make conversation, so he adds, “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen silver before.”

[gideonstjames]

ladylottiew‌:

Lottie was late. Not that she cared a bit, but her father likely would. She had a decent excuse she thought, some of us actually have careers dad. That evening she’d soared to new heights, breaking hearts with her beautifully tragic portrayal of the title role in Giselle. Or at least that’s what Lottie liked to imagine the reviews would say in the morning. None of her family had bothered to attend, so the youngest Windsor would not go out of her way to feel guilty for missing the beginning of the party. 

After avoiding the eye of her parents and chugging two and a half glasses of champagne, Charlotte figured now was as good a time as any to indulge in another little habit. And she was sure her hair was a mess, having pulled the floral crown that was part of her costume out in the car on the ride over. Perfect excuse to find a bathroom. Leaving the main room without much care, she glided down the hall still humming the haunting score, and pulled open a door at random. 

“Whoops,” she tried not to laugh, “Forgive me, wrong door!”

“Goodness--” 

The way Gideon took his time zipping his suit trousers suggests he wasn’t at all thrown off-guard by the sudden barging. There’s a small smirk on his lips as he finally looks over to acknowledge the intruder, by whose voice he correctly assumed didn’t belong in this particular set of bathrooms. 

“Good evening, Lottie,” Gideon greets as he walks over to wash his hands. He looks up into the mirror to look at her through the reflection. “Please, go ahead. I’m just about finished in here.”

[spektr-deactivated20200808]

100 Day of Gabriel Macht: Day 4 - Jono and Ben - Lawyer Up

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